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Sydney shook her head and cleared her throat. “On second thought, yes.”
“What’ll it be? It’s full bar here, like I told you.”
She smiled. “How about a dry martini?”
“Sounds great.” He walked her over to the bar.
“A dry martini for the lady, and a Fat Tire for me.” Sam shoved a few dollar bills into the bartender’s tip jar and handed the martini to Sydney.
“Thank you,” she said shyly.
Was this a coy routine? She sure hadn’t been shy t
hat night five years ago. In fact, she had invited him to her room, not the other way around.
Course five years was a long time. People did change. Who knew what had happened to her in half a decade? No matter. Sam planned to learn all he could about Miss Sydney Buchanan this evening.
But before he could ask the first question, she excused herself to make a phone call.
Damn.
* * *
Calm down, Syd. Jesus.
She’d handled this much better at the rodeo. Still, her heart had thumped so hard against her sternum she’d thought for sure Sam could see it.
Now, in this slinky camisole—which had been a mistake, by the way—it must be completely obvious. She leaned against the counter in the downstairs bathroom and regarded her image in the mirror. What had she been thinking?
He was as handsome as she remembered—sandy brown hair, expressive brown eyes, and that body! He’d been ripped head to toe five years ago, and from what she could see, that hadn’t changed. If anything, he looked even better. His dark jeans hugged those slim hips and that perfect butt just right—not too tight, but tight enough to see the gorgeous musculature.
She hadn’t seen him bust broncs. She hadn’t seen him at all after that one night, even though they’d both been in Denver at the Stock Show for the next few days. He hadn’t tried to contact her.
A veil of guilt blanketed her. Nor had she tried to contact him.
She should have called.
Yes, he could have called. But she should have.
No matter. They were just two ships that had passed during one amazing night. They could never pass again for myriad reasons, none of which she could dwell on at the moment.
Why had she come to this party? She’d known it was a bad idea. Dusty McCray was such a sweetie to invite her. Sydney was amazed Dusty had remembered her after so long.
I suppose you never forget your final barrel race.
Sydney hadn’t forgotten that race either. She’d won a sizable purse, and it had been her last race for about a year and a half.
She’d been back for a couple years now. She had done well but hadn’t been overly successful. Hopefully this rodeo would be good to her. She needed to win a purse—a big one.
She made a quick phone call to her parents at the hotel to check on Duke, and then took a deep breath and left the security of the bathroom. She could make excuses to Dusty easily enough. She wasn’t feeling well, or she had to get up early to work her mare tomorrow, or any number of other things could get her out of this house, away from Sam O’Donovan.
In fact, she was tempted to just leave quietly, but that would be rude. Dusty had been so nice to her, and Sydney was not a rude person. She couldn’t just leave.
She inhaled again and let out the air slowly. Find Dusty and get the heck out of Dodge.
Finding Dusty meant going out back again, and going out back again meant the risk of running into Sam. It was a chance she’d have to take. She walked slowly through the kitchen out to the back patio and the spacious yard.
She spied Sam deep in conversation with Thunder Morgan. Good. Dusty had said how much her brother admired the bronc busting legend. Hopefully that would keep him occupied long enough for her to escape.
